


Dedicated Handgun Maintenance

by Matrya



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas/Dean Unrequited Love, Gen, Gun Disassembly, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:04:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matrya/pseuds/Matrya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam obviously has something he wants to talk about. Probably feelings.</p><p>In which Sam sees what Dean wishes he wouldn't and Dean is definitely not in love with Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dedicated Handgun Maintenance

Sam stares at Dean while he towels off his hair. Sadly, it isn't even slightly subtle, and the furrow between his brow means there's something he wants to talk about. Probably feelings.

Sighing, Dean sets his .45 on the table, satisfied that it's clean, and clears his throat. "What?"

Sam tosses the towel back into the bathroom. "I don't know. You tell me?"

"And what's that mean?" He can feel his hackles rising and pushes back at them. This is not the time to be pissy.

At least, not until he finds out what Sam's talking about.

Sam shrugs a little, that completely affected shrug that they both know is fake-casual and he uses anyway. "You were pretty hard on Cas, man."

"Well, he was pretty useless."

"That wasn't his fault," Sam argues and makes that 'I know you understand this' face that Dean absolutely hates. "That was all Eve and if it wasn't for Cas, we were screwed at the end there."

Rolling his eyes, he picks up the gun again and checks the magazine before setting it aside, pulls back the slide to check the chamber. "We've handled worse." He makes a show of releasing the slide, cocking and turning it, handling the recoil spring quickly.

"We woulda been dead. Again."

He doesn't look up, pulls back the slide, and sets aside the slide stop.

Sam sits across. "Dean, I know you and Cas have some weird thing--"

The slide goes down a little harder than he intends. "There's no thing." He glances up and then back, pulling the safety.

"Dean--"

The frame follows suit of the slide and he catches Sam wincing. "What?" he barks, hand still covering the frame.

"Did something happen with you guys?"

He grips. "Like what? No, we're fine, Sammy."

Sam's chair creaks. "You know, if there's something going on, I'm okay with it. I'm not judging you."

Grinding his teeth, he decocks. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"The only one who cares that Cas is a guy is you," Sam finally cuts to, blunt. "You guys--"

"You're still insane," he bites back, trying his damnedest to sound annoyed as he works out the housing. "There's nothing going on."

"This never has to leave this room, Dean. I'm not saying anything to Cas--"

"There's nothing to say to Cas." Sear spring, hammer pin, hammer.

Sam reaches across and pushes his hands down. "C'mon. Stop. You can't say there's nothing. What if he were a girl?"

"Well he isn't," Dean counters, pulling his hands out.

"What if he were?"

Dean looks up and then back, handling the disconnector pin. "I don't know."

Sam does the hand thing again and waits for Dean to look at him, puppy eyes on full power. "Dean."

"Yeah, okay?" Pushing away Sam's hands and starts to put the pin back in place. Sam, annoyingly, waits. The frame is back together when Dean sets it down and offers quietly. "Yeah." He shakes his head and starts to put the slide on.

"Dean--"

Cutting him off, Dean reveals sourly, "If he were Castiel _la_ then maybe there could be rainbows and talking about our feelings, but he isn't and there aren't so shut up."

For a few seconds that are far too awkward, Sam does shut up. Then Dean slides the magazine home and it figures that Sam would wait out the distraction. "I think you shou--"

"Shut. Up." He emphasises the point by pushing back in the chair and standing up.

He puts the .45 in his bag as he searches for a clean shirt.

"Look, all I'm sayi--"

Dean throws a pair of socks at his head. "Don't be a bitch, Sammy."

"Don't be a jerk," is Sam's lugubrious counter as Dean shuts the bathroom door.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Memo:** I don't check comments or kudos, but feel free to yell at me on [tumblr](http://matrya.tumblr.com) or [check out](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Matrya) my other writing!


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